


On The Line

by wanderinghooves



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Ashes Scene in Avengers: Infinity War Part 1, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, It makes more sense when you read it, Miscommunication, Other, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sad Ending, Slice of Life, Slightly AU I guess, Spider-Man: Homecoming Spoilers, Time Skips, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is a dysfunctional dad, Tony cares about Peter, Voicemail, basically tony tries to keep peter safe and can't, but sad and angsty, exchanging messages, friday-centric ending, infinity war came for us all, or rather dysfunctional communication, this is short and self-indulgent but here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 10:03:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14639541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderinghooves/pseuds/wanderinghooves
Summary: It's almost become a sort of ritual.Every day, Peter leaves a voicemail reporting his activities as Spiderman.Tony listens.Tony makes a voicemail lecturing Peter about keeping a low profile.And Tony never sends it.(Peter and Tony's relationship glimpsed through the messages they leave each other and those that they don't, from the beginning of Homecoming to the end of Infinity War.)





	On The Line

It starts as a joke, kind of.

“Boss, you’ve _got_ to deal with this kid- he’s driving me nuts.”

Tony slowly glances up from his phone. Happy is regarding him from across the desk with an almost plaintive expression, periodically shuffling around on his own device. 

“Here, listen to the voicemail from this afternoon.”

Happy opens the message, and the program’s mechanical speech fills the room.

_“One new voicemail from Peter Parker. 19 September 2017 at 7:19 pm.”_

The timestamp is almost immediately drowned out by a more exuberant voice. This ought to be good.

_“Hey, Happy, here's my report for tonight. I stopped a grand theft bicycle- couldn't find the owner, so I, uh, just left a note. I helped this lost, old Dominican lady. She was really nice and bought me a churro. I…I just feel like I could be doing more, you know? Just curious when the next real mission's gonna be. So, yeah, just call me back. It's Peter. Parker.”_

Tony regards this for long a moment. 

“What exactly do you want me to do, Hap?”

Happy runs a hand through his hair.

“I dunno, be straight with him? He’s not going to stop pestering until you give him an answer.”

Tony lolls his head back in his office chair with a sigh.

“Alright, hand it over.”

Happy tosses the burner phone over the desk, where Tony catches it easily. 

He briefly peruses the phone’s voicemail log. Sure enough, the inbox is flooded with the same small, red icon labeled PETER PARKER, almost daily as if on schedule. 

While Happy wrings his hands, Tony surreptitiously ghosts FRIDAY’s wrist core over the phone’s screen, forwarding the entire inbox to himself.

More dramatically, he tosses the phone onto the desk, punching REPLY to the latest voicemail. 

Kicking his feet up, he clears his throat. 

“Hey, kid, it’s Mr. Stark. Heard you’ve been out saving the world lately. Well, Queens, at least. Which is exactly what you should be doing. No big-boy jobs for the time being. Just keep your nose clean, don’t make mine or Happy’s lives harder than they already are. See you around.”

Leaning forward, he stops the recording. 

“There. That want you wanted?”

Happy sighs somewhat gratefully.

“Hopefully it’ll keep him off my back for a bit.”

Tony shrugs.

“He’s a stubborn kid. That’s what makes him so damn valuable. _And_ obnoxious.”

He tosses the burner phone back over to Happy, but there’s an odd feeling in his stomach.

Under the desk, he thumbs a button on the wrist core’s screen, wiping his recording from the phone’s memory before the message completes sending.

Happy pockets it, none the wiser.

“Thanks, boss.”

 

***

 

Tony might be starting to regret his involvement in Happy’s spider-monitoring.

Maybe.

He’s in the lab filing inventory, late enough that Pepper’s already turned in for the night. Selling Avengers Tower is proving to be a monumental pain in the ass. 

He nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone buzzes.

“Jesus _Christ_ -”

FRIDAY cuts in before he can inquire.

“One new voicemail from Peter Parker. 22 September 2017 at 11:46 pm.”

Tony leans heavily against a workbench.

“Let’s hear it.”

_“Hey, Happy, it’s Peter again- Peter Parker. Just wanted to check in. I thought I’d let you know, I helped an old man find his dog earlier. She actually managed to almost get across the Queensboro Bridge- but I stopped her, you know, with my web shooters. Anyway, just a reminder that I’m here when you guys need me. I, well, I think I can handle the big stuff.”_

Tony sighs lowly.

Peter’s a good kid, and Happy might be right. He probably deserves some sort of explanation.

“FRIDAY, open a reply.”

The phone screen lights up blue.

“…Pete. Hey. Great work with that dog today. Really good stuff. Just, uh, keep at it. No big adventures for you. Don’t get mixed up in anything serious, that’s the adults’ business. Play it safe. Pause recording.”

The screen dulls.

“FRIDAY, send…”

And he can’t do it.

Tony scrubs the bridge of his nose. 

He can’t do it, he can’t crush the kid like that. A large and fearful part of him screams that it would just drive him to push himself harder, get him into more trouble that he isn’t ready for.

“Archive that message.”

The phone goes black.

 

***

 

It’s almost become a ritual of sorts.

Every day, Peter leaves a voicemail reporting his activities. Tony listens. Tony makes a voicemail lecturing Peter about keeping a low profile. And Tony never sends it. 

Thankfully, FRIDAY is too tactful to ask questions. It silently keeps a log of the messages, each of Peter’s neatly matched with a draft from Tony. 

With increasing frequency, Tony reviews these strange, hypothetical conversations, in the very late or very early hours when no one else is around to witness it. Occasionally he’ll play a single message repeatedly, just to ponder. From time to time he’ll delete his draft entirely, recording another response that he finds more fitting. 

“FRIDAY, delete my message from September 28th. I’ve got a few more bones to pick with that kid regarding web-grappling to moving vehicles.”

“Noted, sir.”

Tony wishes that he could send them. He really does. But he knows with increasing certainty that they could only make things worse, make Peter more deadest in his ridiculous quest to prove himself.

“An apt assumption, sir.”

“He’s just so damn obstinate- wait, FRIDAY, did I just say all that out _loud?_ ”

“Would you like me to include your comments in a new message, sir?”

“Jesus, no.”

 

***

 

 _“Hey, kiddo. Nice job with the purse nabbers today. But remember that the police can deal with this stuff too, don’t overextend yourself. Keep your head down, and study for that Spanish quiz."_  
_Draft from Tony Stark. 4 October 2018 at 8:19 pm._  
.  
.  
.  
_“Pete, my man. First of all, nice job on the Engineering Lab award. Put that one on your resume. Secondly, do not under any circumstances try to bust another smuggling operation. That’s out of your league, you hear me? Cool it."_  
_Draft from Tony Stark. 10 October 2018 at 1:23 am._  
.  
.  
.  
_“Kid, I know what happens when human bones hit asphalt at 20 miles per hour. I don’t care if you caught the lady’s phone or not, if you end up as a red-and-blue pancake on 32nd street, I am going to personally come over there and kick your spider ass.”_  
_Draft from Tony Stark. 13 October 2018 at 10:46 pm._

 

***

 

Tony glares, unseeing, at the workbench’s surface. 

He can still visualize Peter’s angry, indignant face boring holes into him, can still feel the hot waves of fury as his brain replays their earlier fight on the rooftop, the venom in the kid’s voice seeping into his chest.

_If you actually cared, you’d be here._

“Sir, Happy has indicated that Peter Parker has arrived at his permanent address.”

“Noted, FRIDAY.”

It seems to ponder for a moment before continuing.

“Would you like for me to compose a message?”

His fists clench for a moment, before slowly deflating.

What could he say? After that fiasco, what more could he do to drive the damn point home, to show Peter just how not-at-all prepared he was for this future he idealized?

_If you’re nothing without the suit, then you shouldn’t have it._

“No. Not right now, FRIDAY.”

Tony scrubs his face with his hands. He remains at the workbench for another while.

For the first day in a long time, no voicemail comes in.

 

***

 

“What do you mean he’s _gone?_ He has to be half-dead!”

Dimly, Tony can recognize that he’s yelling, but right now he doesn’t care. His fists clutch the edge of the balcony, and he peers desperately over the Manhattan nightscape as if somehow, he’ll catch a glimpse of the kid himself.

Happy’s voice is very small on the other line.

“We have no clue, boss- he just left the Vulture guy tied up on the beach, note and everything. But no Parker.”

Tony’s teeth grind audibly, and he forces himself to reply coherently.

“You _find_ him, Happy.”

“Yes sir-“

Tony punches the end call button so violently that the holo-screen temporarily blinks out. He leans heavily against the balcony rail, burying his face in his palms.

His phone lights up again.

“Sir, one new voicemail from Peter Parker. 16 October 2017 at 1:53 am.”

Tony’s stomach drops a mile, and his hands shift from his mouth with a deathly slowness.

“…Open it.”

Peter’s voice is very quiet, and Tony can tell instantly just how utterly terrified he is.

_“Happy. Uh, hey. I don’t know if you know yet about what just went down over at Coney Island- but regardless, before you or Mr. Stark get mad, I just- I need to tell you…There was no other way.”_

The message clicks off.

Tony’s lungs release a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and his body sags as he collapses to his knees on the balcony. There are about four million things he wants to tell Peter, and his brain can’t even begin to process the words as they spill out.

The phone hasn’t yet darkened, so FRIDAY’s sensors manage to catch them, more or less.

_“Peter Parker, how dare you- I cannot believe you, after everything I told you after the ferry shit-You could have been killed, you know that? Do you have any fucking idea- do you know how worried I was? How dare you put yourself in danger like that, can you even imagine- your aunt, your friends, your classmates, me- Do you understand-“  
Draft from Tony Stark. 16 October 2017 at 1:57 am._

 

***  
.  
.  
.

The remnants of the Mark L crumble silently off of Tony’s huddled form.

A few sparks jump through the remaining fragments of the chestpiece, and the Arc Reactor winks fleetingly back to life. 

FRIDAY feels itself awakened from a brief dormancy. 

It runs a few remaining diagnostics capabilities as best it can, but unfortunately, Mr. Stark’s nanoparticle system appears mostly destroyed. More concerningly, his physiological readings seem extremely compromised. 

The environment of the moon Titan is incompatible with human biology for long-term habitation. 

Furthermore, there is an unknown and potentially dangerous particle contaminant that appears to have coated Mr. Stark’s skin.

FRIDAY hurriedly attempts to communicate these concerns to its master, but its fuel is direly insufficient. Systems are dying out as quickly as they were rekindled.

The Arc Reactor begins to dim.

FRIDAY is confused. It has done many things in its service to Mr. Stark, but it has never died.

As the last of its fuel leaves the ruined armor, FRIDAY senses Mr. Stark starting to speak. Dutifully, its audio recorders archive one final message. 

.  
.  
.

_“Peter... oh God, Peter... This is my fault, I'm so sorry-”  
Draft from Tony Stark. 27 April 2018 at 11:01 pm._


End file.
